Empire Ants
by asd'viers.dfga
Summary: 07: Where the Emptiness We Leave Behind - Yeah, Wally had asked plenty of girls out before, but this one was different. This crazy sheila hated his guts.
1. 02: Sailing Out the Doldrums of the Week

_Empire Ants_

_02: "Sailing Out the Doldrums of the Week"_

* * *

Ms. Sanban pulled her long, inky hair back into a tight bun, scrutinizing her reflection in the bathroom mirror for any stray strands of hair in her otherwise immaculate hairdo. She had worn her hair exactly like this every day since she had been promoted to president of the Rainbow Monkey Corporation three years ago. If her hair was out of place, then who would possibly take her seriously? Certainly not the thousands of employees she supervised or the business representatives she dealt with daily. It was the same way her distant mother used to style her hair, back when they still spoke to one another. Before she could finish that thought, she shook it from her mind and turned the faucet on, splashing her face with cold, refreshing water. Noticing the dark circles under her eyes, she retrieved some cover-up from a drawer in her cabinet and applied it accordingly. It was only five in the morning, with the stars and the moon still peering at her through her window, but instead of going back to sleep, she sleepily made her way to the kitchen to start brewing a pot of coffee. She watched as the brown liquid seeped into the pot, bubbling due to the heated pad underneath it. When she was ten, she hated the stuff – the smell, the taste, even the way it looked – but now she couldn't get enough of it, especially on early mornings like this one. Otherwise she was likely to fall asleep on her commute to work.

It had been a while since she had had a day off. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but when was the last day she had any time to collect her thoughts and relax? Not that she minded; work meant money, and she was already collecting a huge sum in her banking account. Plus, you couldn't expect a company to run very smoothly if the president was always taking days off. No, she definitely enjoyed working all the time. They had a word for that, but it momentarily slipped her mind.

_Think tha word yer lookin' for's workaholic._

Her amethyst eyes shut calmly as the familiar voice that acted as her conscience spoke up in the back of her mind. It had been so long since she had heard his voice too. Not that she particularly enjoyed it most of the time. He was always critical of her, and bitterly sarcastic.

"No…" She whispered out loud to nobody, leaning back in her chair.

_Fine. Then yer crazeh._

She blinked widely, letting her chair return all four legs to the floor. Was she? Ms. Sanban felt at the swollen area under her eyes gently with her fingertips, her mouth agape in wonder. Do normal people lose this much sleep?

"I'm not crazy," She stated to the empty kitchen. The silence the followed was almost deafening. He didn't answer, much to her distress. "I'm not!"

_Roight. Then why're ya hearin' voices?_

The tired twenty four year-old crossed the kitchen and began to make her coffee, keeping her mind fixated on the task.

_You drink yer coffee black? Tha's jus' gross._

"Shuddup!" She warned the shadows in her hallway. "Nobody asked you!"

A few tears slipped quietly down her face and she paused, unsure of what to do. Actual tears were falling out of her eyes? Oh no, Ms. Sanban did not cry. She could not afford to show any emotion. Quickly, she rubbed her sleeve across her face, eager to erase the evidence of a weakness in her defenses before her conscience noticed. The voice had fallen quiet, giving her mind some peace. She rubbed her temples swiftly, attempting to drive away the already forming migraine. Maybe her psychologist was right in the assumption that she was missing something in her life, and was working so much to compensate for it. She sighed. In her mind, she could picture the owner of the voice of her conscience, pumping his fist into the air silently as she made this revelation.

She finished her coffee in two giant gulps and placed the mug in the sink, before walking to her bedroom. Her clothes for the day were folded neatly at the foot of her bed, dull, corporate business wear. She tossed the outfit offhandedly onto the floor behind her and found her abandoned phone, buried in the folds of her comforter. She sat on the edge of her mattress. Dialing the familiar number, she held the phone to her ear as it rang – once, twice. Three times, until the manicured voice of her secretary answered. It was astonishing, but she always seemed to get there before her.

"Rainbow Monkey Corporate Offices, President Sanban's office," She rehearsed, her high fructose tone purring sweetly into the receiver. "Who may I ask is calling?"

"It's me. Listen, I'm going to request that I have the day off due to personal illness," She played with the carpet beneath her toes.

"What?" The voice on the other end sounded shocked.

"You heard me, I'm calling in sick!"

"But, Ms. Sanban, yo-" She flipped the phone shut mid-sentence and laid down, the conscience in her head smiling at her proudly.

"You happy now?" She asked her empty apartment, suddenly exhausted and already drifting off to sleep.

When she awoke, it was ten o'clock in morning. The phone was still gripped loosely in her hand. She took notice that she had six missed calls, all from her secretary, no doubt trying to beg her to come into work. She shrugged and sat up; she had other plans for today. Standing shakily, she walked towards the bathroom to change out of her pajamas. The mirror showed her that her nap had mussed her hair; long strands of black framed her face beautifully. The bags under her eyes were still there, though less noticeable as they had been before. She appeared to be glowing as she changed and returned to her bedroom to sift through her nightstand purposefully. Finally, she held up a tiny book with hope. Flipping through the pages of her address book, she grabbed her phone again and began to dial a number written on a napkin that was folded in between the pages.

It was ringing.

And she couldn't be any more nervous.

Finally, a click made her jump, and a thick accent greeted her ears. "Yeh?"

She was so nervous that she couldn't move her lips to speak, and she didn't know what she would say if she could speak.

"Hello?" His voice sounded irritated now; she figured she'd better say something before he hung up.

"Yeah, hello?"

"Who's this?" He inquired, suddenly sounding interested.

"It's Kuki," She replied softly.

And for the first time in years, she smiled.

* * *

A/N: I don't own Codename: Kids Next Door or Gorillaz. Alright, so, this is pretty pointless and rushed and crappy, but meh, I figured I'd give it a shot anyway. I hope she isn't too out of character; I was basing her off of her future self in Operation: INTERVIEWS, although this takes place before that obviously. So, I'm trying something different here; I thought it would be interesting to try to write a one-shot for each line in one single song. Challenging - yes, but interesting. Each chapter will be inspired by a line from the fantastic Gorillaz song _Empire Ants, _and I highly suggest giving this tune a listen. But each one-shot may or may not include the same characters, and they may or may not be occur in the same plot line – I haven't decided yet. I would also like to point out that since 2D's wonderful singing is kinda mumbled at times, and the lyrics aren't always clear, I'm going with what I think the correct lyrics are or whatever inspires my muse the most, heheh. Anyways, review and tell me if you likey!

Quick question: did you know that Kuki's name means 'air' in Japanese?


	2. 07: Where the Emptiness We Leave Behind

_Empire Ants_

_07: "Where the emptiness we leave behind."_

* * *

If Mr. Boss wasn't such a cold-hearted prick, the following events would not have occurred. Here he was cutting class, driving his beat-up old car in a record-breaking heat wave with no air conditioning. Sweat trickled down his neck agonizingly slow, and he mentally noted to thank the corporate tyrant later. Although, this did give him a reason to drive twenty over the legal speed limit. Today was a perfect day to have the windows rolled down anyway, he thought as the breeze tousled his hair out of his eyes, and tuned the radio to his favorite station, the one that played incredibly loud rock music. Wallabee practically stood on the brakes as the light at the intersection turned from yellow to red, sending the hastily wrapped package in his passenger seat flying into the dashboard. The car jerked backwards as it came to an instant stop. Yeah, today was definitely off to a good start. He was already late, and this was the fifth light that had stopped him! He grumbled, and reached to the floor to pick up the now dented gift box. They were only a pair of brand new cruddy bowling shoes, they'd be alright, he deducted, before tossing them back onto the seat.

Next, he was speeding into the parking lot of the corporate offices, tires squealing. No close parking spaces, of course. He finally found a spot near the back of the lot and swung his door open, careless of the car beside his. Jumping out, he gripped the box tightly in one hand and slammed his door, trekking across the sea of vehicles to the front of the building. As he opened the door, a blast of cold air washed over him in a wave of relief. The lobby was familiar to him; he had been here countless times when he was younger, much to his obvious objection. He hated the minimalist furniture and the modern abstract paintings that reminded him of Rorschach inkblot test cards. Another thing he hated was the receptionist; a girl, who couldn't be any older than him, with small, pink lips and amethyst, almond eyes. This girl also always regarded him with the coldest of gazes and for no apparent reason, much to his confusion.

Sure, he was kind of a jerk as far as the sheilas were concerned, but he had done nothing to her. He hadn't even spoken two words to the girl, for crying out loud! Besides, he wasn't really interested in girls anyways. Of course he liked them, and had casually dated plenty of them around campus, but none of them truly ignited a spark of intrigue in him. They were all a dime a dozen, and incredibly boring. Seriously, how was anybody supposed to sit through a two hour story about their day at the hair salon? But he had to admit, even for a cruddy girl, and a very unapproachable one at that, this receptionist was exceptionally attractive. He cautiously advanced to her desk.

"Hi, um…I'd like ta see uh Mista Beatles?" Wally rubbed the back of his head nervously.

Gaze unfaltering, she burned two holes into his head from behind her inky curtain of bangs as she pressed a button on her phone. "Mr. Beatles, you have a visitor in the lobby."

"Right, be down in jus' uh tic," His father's thick dialect replied over the intercom.

"It'll be a few minutes." Her eyes remained glued to him as he awkwardly shuffled backwards towards the chairs in the waiting room, a frown on her face the entire time.

"Uh…'kay. Guess I'll jus'…wait then," He lowered himself into a chair, still aware of her eyes on him.

The silence that ensued was deafening.

Wally mentally repeated the alphabet backwards, or attempted to anyway, until he became aware of the clatter of buttons being pressed on a keyboard. She had momentarily forgotten him and was staring mundanely at her computer monitor. The screen illuminated her face in a white light, and from the peripheral of his vision she almost looked…enticing. Her lips pursed cutely and her eyebrows furrowed as she disapproved of something she was seeing on the monitor. She twirled her computer chair a bit, rocking to and fro slowly. Eyes still transfixed by the screen, she didn't notice when the boy stood up and began hesitantly walking over to her. Somehow, by some lower intelligence in his brain, Wally felt the sudden urge to talk to her some more. As if her stand-offish attitude towards the boy wasn't unpleasant enough.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" She jumped as he poked his head around the computer, startling her.

"Nothing that concerns you," She replied coldly, regaining her composure.

"Fine whateva," Awkward silence. "D'ya know when my pops is gonna be here?"

"Nope." Then, "Why are _you_ even here?"

Swelling his chest up proudly, he said, "'S my pops' birthday today!" Then he dropped his happy tone. "But Mista' Boss made 'im work all day."

"Hm," She nodded, pausing as if she were listening. "So, why are you bothering me again?"

"Oi, there's jus' no point tryin' ta talk ta ya, is there?"

She smiled defiantly, and gestured back towards his chair. Wally, however didn't budge.

"Look, ya wanna go out later? Like catch uh flick 'r somethin'?" Watching the toe of his shoe as it made nervous circles on the floor, he blushed deeply. Yeah, Wally had asked plenty of girls out before, but this one was different. This crazy sheila hated his guts.

Suddenly, she snarled her teeth, which seemed very sharp and pointy, and her eyes were ablaze with anger as she growled and stood from her chair. He had never seen anything more terrifying in his life.

"Easy on, easy on! I was jus' askin'!" He defended himself vigorously, throwing his arms up in front of him. "Why d'ya hate me?"

"Well, maybe it's none of your business," She sneered, calm and collected as ever. And that pissed him off.

"Is too my business!" The tow-headed young adult braced both hands firmly on the desk and leaned in close, fury flashing in his eyes. "How come ya hate meh so much?"

She was actually speechless.

Her eyes clouded over and he tried to comprehend what was going on. "You."

"…huh?"

"You…" She paused again, trying to force out a memory that was rather difficult on her emotions. "You remind me of a childhood friend I used to have. He was just like you, 'cept I really liked him," She smirked before a sudden sadness fell over her countenance. "…but I don't remember much about my childhood. And I think it's somehow his fault."

Blankly, he stared at her, mouth agape at her sudden openness.

"So? What time are you picking me up?" She smiled slyly.

A toothy grin spread across his face. "How 'bout I pick ya u-"

"Wallabee, my l'il marsupial!"

"Hey dad," Came the monotonous, embarrassed reply. His father was completely oblivious.

"I see ya met Kuki, tha company's new receptionist!" Emerald eyes lit up at the mention of her name, and her face flushed a deep shade of vermilion. "So, what're ya doin' here, son?"

Silently, Wally handed the present to his surprised father.

"Aw, ain't that uh dazzla', ya little ankle bitta'!" Mr. Beatles' face lit up while his son stared at the girl, who was rummaging around her desk for something. "Ya remembuhed my birthday!"

"Mmm…" Wally replied, too preoccupied with the pretty girl named Kuki, who had found a pen and was writing her phone number on a post-it.

* * *

A/N: No reviews but tons of hits? You guys are jerks! Haha just kidding…but seriously. Well, I suppose this was a pretty crappy idea, but it satisfies my muse so I guess I will continue. Ok, so I used a lot of Australian slang in this one…not sure why but I think it's all correct. Kind of reminds me of Operation: ENGLAND...heheh. Please excuse my terrible attempt at their accent. It's really kind of pathetic. Sorry if I offended any Australians out there.

Nothing else to say here really except review please. :)


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